


What Goes Thump in the Night?

by ColdAndBrash



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: And they gotta fight it, Angst, Canon Compliant, Duck has a cat, F/F, I'm really bad at tagging these, It's hard, M/M, Pine Guard - Freeform, SO, Slow Build, Slow Burn, There's a new bom-bom, as of now lmao, i tried to stay in character, sorry - Freeform, we all know, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 18:23:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17167016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdAndBrash/pseuds/ColdAndBrash
Summary: There's a new abomination for the Pine Guard to fight, but first they have to figure out what exactly it is. With at least one strange death under its belt, it's certainly no foe to laugh at; but, it does have the ability to make someone want something. To really crave it, even if it'll kill them to do it.





	What Goes Thump in the Night?

"Shit," came a hiss from the dimmed streets. "Fuck, why'd he choose to meet up when it's so cold out!?"

  
A figure, hardly noticeable in the darkness, rubbed their hands together for warmth. It'd been almost 15 minutes and their 'friend' still wasn't there. "God, grant me patience..." They breathed out, breath fogging in the cold. They were itching for their next fix. "Coldest night of the fuckin' week, and he chooses now to take his fuckin' time. Damn it."

  
Almost as if the weather had taken mercy on this stranger, the air suddenly rose a couple degrees. Hell, it felt like the air was hugging 'em, it was getting so warm.

  
"The hell- eh, beggars can't be choosers, I guess. Still, what the fuck is taking so damn long!?" The stranger started worrying on their lip, for the hundredth time that night. Blood, barely coagulated, started flowing freely again. They absent-mindedly started messing with their already torn nails, only worsening them. God, was it getting hot! Where the fuck was the dealer!?

  
"Damn it, damn it, damn it," they grumbled, pausing in their nail-shredding to unbutton their jacket and take off their scarf. "I can't just stay here all night or someone'll think something's up. Fuckin' hell, should've listened to Steve and just stayed in. God damn it."

  
As they muttered to themself, the temperature only steadily increased. After a couple more minutes of anxious waiting, they pulled off their jacket entirely.

  
"I'm fucking sweating. In the middle of winter. He better fuckin' hurry up, before this gets any worse. I swear t'God, if this is withdrawal, I'll kick his fuckin' ass." They shifted their weight, then turned their worrisome attention to their arms rather than their nails, scratching at their sides.

  
The dealer never showed, but that ended up being the least of their problems.

  
The temperature continued to rise, until this unfortunate addict was nearly ripping their shirt off. "What the fuck happened to the cold!? Holy shit, what the fu-"

  
A sudden, heavy pressure on their shoulders sent them to the ground--ironically enough, the ground was cold, granting a brief moment of comfort. The rocks that jabbed into their face, the dirt caught in their eyes, were not as comforting, however. And neither was the fact that their heart, _thump, **thump, THUMP,**_ grew louder and louder, and the air hotter and hotter.

  
They tried to speak, but they didn't try that hard. It's difficult to concentrate on something when you're losing the ability to breathe. Their very blood felt too hot, gushing through their veins; they tried to claw the blood out with their jagged, torn nails, but again--hard to do stuff while losing oxygen. They were burning up from the inside.  
The dealer never did show, meaning it was up to ol' Leo Tarkesian to call in the body he found when he went on his morning stroll. And, of course, it was up to the Pine Guard to figure out what the hell had happened.

  
\----

  
"Damn, and here I was hoping that after that tree thing, we'd catch a break or something," Ned said, scratching his head.

  
"Well, that's what you get for bein' hopeful, I guess." Mama sighed, crossing her arms. At the moment, she and Ned were at the lodge, along with Barclay, Duck, and Aubrey. She'd called them all together to discuss the death from the previous night. "Should've realized by now that these guys only get harder, Ned."

  
"Yeah, but still! Can't we just catch a break for once?" He dramatically cried out, shaking his fist at the universe.

  
Duck shook his head at his friend's antics before turning to Mama. "So, what's the shakedown? D'you know what this thing's deal is yet?"

  
Mama glanced at Barclay before turning back to the three, a look on her face that held the answer to his request. Barclay cleared his throat, holding out a file to the three. Duck raised an eyebrow before taking it. "Unfortunately, we've only got estimates on this thing right now." Barclay flipped open the file Duck was cautiously eyeing, then stuck his finger on a bolded line.

**Melli Coppers**

  
**Bodily/Sensory Overload**

  
"What's this mean?" Aubrey asked, peering over the ranger's shoulder. Her right hand was twitching, a tiny flame darting from finger to finger. "Is that, like, their cause of death?"

  
Barclay nodded, a grim look on his face. "Yeah, there was no reason this person should have died. The report states they had an addiction, apparently morphine, and while they were waiting for their dealer they died. Heavy withdrawal signs right before their death, too."

  
Ned made a gesture with his hand, raising an eyebrow at Barclay. "Go on, I don't quite see how that relates to any 'bom-boms.'" He used air quotations around Aubrey's coined word, causing Barclay to snort in amusement.

  
"Well, the thing is, they'd only taken morphine once. At least, that's what their friend says. There's no reason they should have been going through such a strong withdrawal, as you would." Barclay grabbed a piece of paper from the file, held it up before him, then showed it to the three of them. It showed a picture of a guy, probably in his 20's, with a crooked smile and a backwards baseball cap. The name 'Steven Hollenger' was typed underneath, along with a small description of his life, job, etc. "Hell, according to this guy, Melli wasn't even addicted!"

   
Duck glanced at the paper quickly before returning his focus to Barclay. "And I take it this is the friend?"

  
"We've got a winner," Mama said in what should have been a cheerier voice, but ended up falling flat. She coughed. "Anyways, we were thinkin' one of y'all could meet up with this guy, talk to him, see if you can get any info." She rubbed at one of her eyes--dark circles underneath--before continuing. "The sooner, the better. Y'all know the drill by now."

  
Ned stepped forward, patting Duck's arm. "Well, me and Duck here could do it! He is, technically, law enforcement, and if lying needs to be done-" he slung his arm around Duck's neck, "-ya got me!" He finished with what he considered an award-winning wink.

  
Duck shrugged Ned's arm off of him. "Alright, then, that's settled?" A quick nod from Aubrey answered his question. He glanced around at the rest of them. "Then we'll report back once we're done."

  
"Affirmative," said Ned, grabbing Duck's and his coats. He tossed the former one to its owner, slipped into his own, and was on his way out, Duck close behind.

  
It didn't take long for the two to pin down Steven, as it was a small town, after all. It helped that in the files Barclay had given them, it listed his address and his favorite hangouts. Unfortunately for Duck, there was no answer at the guy's home and Steve's favorite ice cream shop was closed on Sundays. Which left the club, half an hour away.

  
"Who the hell even goes clubbin' this early?" Duck grumbled, glaring at the road as he drove. "It's like, 5 PM!"

  
Ned scoffed. "Well, kids are gonna be kids. Not much you can do about that."

  
Duck shot a glare at Ned (which didn't last long--roads are slippery, folks. Keep your eyes on 'em). Eventually he let out a slow sigh. "Yeah, but does he really have to be at a club? Couldn't he have, oh, I don't know, been normal and stayed home for the day?"

  
"If the club's the problem, you know you don't have to go in, right Duck? I'll head in there, question him, and if he gets suspicious I'll just pretend I'm yo-"

  
Duck held up a hand, essentially cutting him off. "Oh, no. Absolutely not. I am not about to let you impersonate a federal officer, Ned. Thanks for the offer but I'll just suck it up and go in with ya," he sighed.

  
When they inevitably arrived, it was nearly 6 PM. Took longer than Duck would've liked, but hey, not like he could do anything about it.

  
Stepping into the club, apparently called 'The Houdini Hub' (Duck didn't know or care why), he was instantly hit with the smell of heavy alcohol and cigarette smoke. To the right of him, Ned covered his nose, about to gag. He, mercifully, stopped himself; at least they wouldn't look too suspicious.

  
Once he'd acclimated to the smell and the darker environment, Duck glanced around for the Steven guy they had to find. At first he couldn't find him, and gods damned he would be pissed if he'd wasted that much gas for nothing, but Ned pointed out the guy lurking near the back. He didn't look too well-off, kept shifting about, but the older man started walking towards him so Duck had no choice but to follow.

  
"Excuse me, young sir, would you be Steven Hollanger?" Ned asked, confidently striding up to the young man.

  
Steve narrowed his eyes at Ned, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "Who's askin'?"

  
Duck pulled Ned back a bit--didn't want the kid to feel cornered, after all. "Listen, we're just tryin' to get to the bottom of what happened to your friend. and were hopin' you could help us." He pulled out his park ranger badge, and flashed it at the kid for the briefest of seconds, hoping that the guy wouldn't realize that he was not in fact an actual police officer.

  
"U-uh, yeah," he stuttered, though his gaze did soften. "Yeah, Mell. They, um, they died. Said it was morphine." He scowled at this, fixating a glare on the floor.

  
Ned cleared his throat, pulling out the files from Barclay. "According to forensics, they were addicted, correct?"

  
Steve started to look more uncomfortable, but at least he wasn't freaking out. Yet. "Addiction? I mean, to my knowledge, they only ever did it once. And that was over a year ago, so there shouldn't have been any effects lingering. Right?" The guy chuckled, but it sounded forced and empty.

  
Duck shot Ned a confused look, to which Ned shrugged. "You're sure they weren't secretly taking it, kid?"

  
Steve grimaced, scuffing the ground with the floor. "I already went through all this shit with the cops. No, they hadn't taken it, unless they took it the night they died. After Mell took it, they told me how great it felt, but swore to me that they wouldn't do it again, alright!? I trust Mell, man, they wouldn't-" he cut himself off, realizing his mistake. He took a deep, shuddery breath, then continued. "Listen, I don't know anything else. Just go, you've got all the information you need."

  
"Alright, well, uh," Ned started. He glanced from Duck to the kid and back again. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Hollanger."

  
Duck nodded, tipping his hat. "We're very sorry for your loss."

  
The only response they got was a dip of the head and a sniffle, so Duck took that as a cue to get on out of there. There were more people than there had been when they'd first entered; a lot more, to be exact. Duck noticed a group of people eyeing him and Ned, and he didn't like it one bit. He practically shoved Ned out the door and the two older men left the busy, smelly club, driving the too-long drive back to Kepler.

  
Duck dropped Ned off at the Cryptonomica before making his way back to his apartment. He checked the time: almost 10:40. He huffed, turned off his truck, and stepped out into the cold of night.

  
He only had to brave the cold for a short 3 minutes, and the second he shuffled inside he was greeted by the chirping of his cat. Duck grinned down at her as she rubbed against his feet, nearly falling over as he tried to slip off his boots. She was only making it more difficult, but he didn't mind; she was happy, and so was he.

  
"Heya sweetheart, sorry I took so long," he murmured, leaning down to scratch her cheek. She instantly started purring, licking his fingers as he continued. Duck let out a chuckle at this. "I know, I know, I'll feed ya in a minute. Lemme hang up my coat, at least."

  
Once he'd removed his wintergear, and fed his darling kitty, he flopped into bed. It was too much work, changing into pajamas right now. Sleep was just so tempting...  
His cat disproved of this, apparently, as she hopped onto his double bed, right in front of his face, and started meowing at him.

  
"Uugh, Miffy," he groaned, rolling onto his back. "Just gimme a moment." In response, she swatted his nose. Duck sat up and sniffed. "Alright, I prob'ly deserved that one." He proceeded to change into the first tee-shirt he found and a pair of flannel pants, then flopped back into bed. "Now will you let me sleep?"

  
When the tired ranger didn't get an answer, he sighed and pulled the blankets over himself. God, he was talking to himself a lot lately. Maybe he was a little lonely. "Listen, Milly. The Pine Guard are great and all, hell they're basically my family at this point." He paused for a second, mulling over what to say next. "But they're not someone to lay in bed with, y'know? Can't just lay awake talking to Aubrey and Ned until I fall asleep."

  
No response.

  
Duck grabbed a pillow, pulled it close to himself, and buried his face in it. "I mean, it'd be nice to have someone I could be with, ya know?" he mumbled, voice muffled heavily by the pillow.

  
Miffy hopped back onto his bed, licked his hand, then curled up next to him. Duck grinned into his pillow, scratching her head. "Yeah, yeah. I sound like a teenage girl or somethin'. Then again, ya don't hear Aubrey complainin' about this stuff, so maybe it's just me." He sighed, giving his cat one final scratch on the head for the night. "G'night, Miffy."

  
No response.

  
_Thump, thump, thump._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slaps the Pine Guard* These bad boys can fit so much gay in 'em.  
> Please comment *whips*  
> Please kudos *default dances*  
> Please  
> please

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! My updates will probably not be the fastest, but I'll do my damnedest to speed 'em up! (Comments help ;)


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